


In Sickness and In Health

by Anonymous



Category: DAKAICHI (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Wholesome Boyfriends TM
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:34:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22538608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Junta promised to stay by his side. In sickness and in health. Always and forever.
Relationships: Azumaya Junta/Saijou Takato
Comments: 45
Kudos: 132
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

_ 318 _

The man in the hallway paused briefly before the door marked with this simple numeric code, written in raised, golden digits atop a tiny wooden plaque,breathing a weary sigh as he managed a gentle smile. This whole ordeal had been nothing short of physically and emotionally exhausting. But he knew this hardship would be ending very soon now, and they could both go back to their regular, wonderfully fulfilling lives. Until then, he just had to stay positive, maintain a cheery expression, and do everything he could to keep both of their flagging spirits high.

The man, fledgling actor Junta Azumaya, pushed the heavy door open with renewed enthusiasm.

“Sorry to have taken so long, Takato-San!” He smiled brightly. “That place was a lot slower than I had hoped.”

The older man across the room failed to offer a response. Instead, he merely continued to quietly grunt into his rhythmic heavy sighs. Junta was used to it, though, and took no offense. He knew Takato hated every minute they were stuck here. And Junta really couldn't blame him, which is why he tried his hardest to be there beside him for as much of it as he could. 

But Junta's manager, Taguchi-San, had been stubbornly insistent that they leave for just a little while to go grab something to eat. It had been less a request and more a demand, with Taguchi's tone becoming uncharacteristically fierce and almost intimidating, a tone Junta had previously only witnessed him use on their production company's president. Still, Junta knew his manager was only looking out for him. In fact, he was certain that Taguchi had only come with him just to make certain he actually ate something. So Junta had complied, hoping that the place would be quick and efficient enough for him to return to Takato's side as soon as he possibly could. 

Well, the place was hardly speedy. And the food had been mediocre at best. But Junta ate enough to satisfy Taguchi's worries, and the overworked manager had excused himself for the day, allowing Junta to head back to his place beside Takato. 

Junta, noticing a few of his things had been moved around in his brief absence, gathered together his messy assortment of scattered papers and filed them back into his sky blue folder, then took a quick moment to rearrange some of Takato's things on the desk. 

"I know we both can't wait until this is all over." Junta mused, continuing to tidy up as best he could. "It's hard not having nearly enough space for everything. And neither of us have been able to enjoy a decent meal the whole time we've been here." He set his backpack next to his chair, then turned to face Takato with an expression of excited determination. "As soon as we get outta here, I'll make us a home-made, three course dinner! Whatever you want, Takato-San!"

Again, Takato didn't reply. Junta sighed, his determination ebbing and his posture falling back into a more neutral pose. 

He took a step closer towards his older companion, taking just a moment to silently study him. Takato seemed almost completely still, laid out in a stiff straight line on the uncomfortably thin mattress. His arms, perfectly parallel to his torso, looked so pale and fragile, as if they could snap like little twigs. Angry red and purple splotches peeked from beneath the bandages on his wrists and elbows from where the various IV lines entered his veins, and a tangle of tubes and wires kept him tethered to the assorted, beeping electronics hanging all about. His dark ringed eyes had gotten so puffy while his cheeks and jaw now appeared so gaunt. And his mouth was still anchored wide open, a hissing air tube disappearing down his throat that forced the oxygen deep into his chest with every rhythmic hum. 

In short, Takato looked terrible. Almost everyone would agree on that, but not Junta. Junta could only see Takato as perfect, pristine, beautifully flawless, no matter what the circumstances may be. He happily allowed himself to remain blind as to the severity of his significant others medical predicament. 

Gently, he brushed a bulky hand lovingly through Takato's wiry black locks, his expression disguising his worry behind a fond smile. 

"I'll cook whatever you want, Takato-San." He whispered sweetly. "You just gotta get better for me first. Okay?"


	2. Chapter 2

_ It all began nearly two weeks ago. _

_ Lounging lazily on the living room couch, Junta gingerly flipped through the pages of his newest script, mentally preparing himself for the upcoming rehearsal. This show was important, as was any project where he got to act alongside his idol and soon-to-be-roommate, Takato Saijou. After all, it was Takato who Junta believed had allowed him to fully unlock his true potential as an actor and overall performer. He would continue to show his thanks by never ceasing to make him proud.  _

_ Though they weren't technically roommates quite yet, the two of them almost always spent their afternoons and evenings together. Even now, Junta could hear Takato's melodic humming echoing beneath the running water of the shower. He was a tad disappointed; normally Takato tended to sing in the shower so long as Junta stayed quiet enough for him to forget his presence. He was a talented singer with a strong voice, which landed him several musical roles. But if it wasn't for a rehearsal or performance, Takato normally felt too self conscious to sing anything, making his quiet shower concerts a rare treat for Junta's ears only.  _

_ Now, though, Junta was hearing something far less pleasant than Takato's singing. Every few minutes or so, his gentle humming would be interrupted by sudden bouts of a terrible, strained coughing, sometimes in fits lasting up to a minute at a time. It was the kind of coughing that reached into the deepest pockets of his respiratory system, but one that failed to actually dislodge or extract anything; a dry, painful, pointless cough. Junta had noticed it for a day or two now, despite Takato's attempts to conceal it. And with the coughing proving as fruitless as it was, whatever was causing the respiratory distress wasn't about to leave anytime soon.  _

_ The water turned off, and Junta could hear as Takato fetched a towel and some fresh clothing, not really feeling up to a warm soak like usual. Eventually, after a few more brief bursts of hacking and coughing, Takato emerged from the bathroom and made his way down the main hall. _

_ Junta's golden eyes jumped up to meet Takato's almost instinctively. His jet black hair was still dripping with moisture, the fluffy towel loosely draped around his neck absorbing the rogue water droplets that fell. Though the hot water had helped to warm his skin and improve his complexion, Junta could still see the smearing of dark color forming beneath mildly bloodshot blue eyes. Even his shy greeting seemed overly fatigued as he bonelessly flopped down on to the opposite end of the couch.  _

_ Junta daintily closed his script booklet. "Are you feeling alright, Takato-San?" _

_ Startled, Takato's eyes snapped to attention, focusing on the younger mans softened face. "Why... What do you mean?" He stammered weakly.  _

_ "I could hear you coughing..." Junta admitted, folding his hands in his lap and playing with his fingers absentmindedly. "It sounds like you could be coming down with something." _

_ Takato's cheeks almost immediately began to flush a vibrant pink, and he turned his face away in the hopes that Junta hadn't noticed yet. "I-It's only a cough! A cold at the worst. I'll be fine." _

_ Junta stood and placed his script on the coffee table. "Maybe you should stay here and rest for a few days until you start feeling better. Schedule an appointment with a doctor to make sure it's nothing serious." He suggested, quietly padding his way towards the kitchen.  _

_ Just as Junta expected, Takato met this suggestion with an exaggerated scoff. "Are you kidding? This is me we're talking about." He puffed, managing an aura of pride despite his sickly appearance. "I'm an elite, veteran actor. I don't miss work just because I catch some minor cold. I'm sure it will pass on its own in a day or two." _

_ It was true; it took a lot more than a cough to make Takato Saijou miss a rehearsal. His fiercely competitive nature meant he refused to ever show weakness or give another actor the opportunity to surpass him. And as much as Junta's company had come to mean to him, he still saw the up-and-comer as a threat to his career. He couldn't afford to miss a day and have his charismatic, naturally gifted co-star steal the spotlight in their upcoming production.  _

_ But Junta wasn't concerned with any of those things right now. His only motivation came from genuine concern for his significant other's overall well being. Takato was so strong, but he was also so stubborn. He spent his entire career pushing himself to his limits, to the point where he now seems to lack the ability to tell where to draw the line.  _

_ "I'm just worried that this cough of yours will turn into something worse." Junta explained, pressing a button to open the microwave, revealing something he had placed there only moments earlier. "What will happen if all that coughing starts negatively affecting Takato-San's voice during the shoot?" _

_ Takato immediately cringed at the thought. He knew full well what would happen if he showed up for the shoot with his voice shot to hell. They wouldn't send him home or reschedule the shoot or anything. It was hard enough to book all the actors, crew, and locations together. No, with everyone present, the recording would go on as planned.  _

_ Except all the dialogue would have to be overdubbed.  _

_ Takato wasn't really a fan of voice acting. It felt so constricting. How could he fully convey his characters inner feelings through voice alone? For Takato, acting was something that required the use of one's entire body. Not just voice, but pose, movement, even down to the timing of each footstep or each individual blink. It was hard for him to focus on only one aspect of performing. So often he would be recording lines in the booth only for the director to interrupt him, coming over the headset to tell him that the mic was picking up all the air displacement and fabric rustling from his enthusiastic gesturing.  _

_ Meanwhile, Junta excelled at voice acting. He could channel every part of his performance into his voice, sounding completely natural and fitting perfectly with the earlier recorded visuals. It was just another reason Takato couldn't afford to let this illness slow him down. If the project had to be dubbed, Junta's talent would leave Takato's acting in the dust.  _

_ He had to nip this problem in the bud.  _

_ "Alright..." He grumbled finally, folding his arms across his chest. "I'll make an appointment with my doctor for later this week. But only after the day's shoot! I might've agreed to a checkup, but I refuse to miss even an hour of work over this!" _

_ "Of course!" Junta smiled, his voice teeming with both enthusiasm and relief. He happily retrieved the object from the microwave and came bounding back to the couch, excitedly offering it to Takato with a sing-song 'here you go!' _

_ "Mm?" Takato lifted his gaze with a puzzled expression, studying the steaming mug clutched in Junta's over sized hands. "For me?" _

_ "Yes!" He responded with a nod. "I made it for you while you were in the shower. I left it in the microwave to keep it nice and warm!" _

_ Still mildly confused, Takato slowly accepted the drink being offered to him. He brought the cup close to his nose and curiously inhaled the gentle aroma drifting upwards with the steam. He instantly recognized the distinct scents of honey and boiled radishes, and a tender smile quickly blossomed on his face. It was the same cough soothing tea recipe he had made for Junta several months back. The fact that he had not only remembered it, but had decided to make it unprompted after hearing Takato's plight made his chest swell with a loving affection. _

_ A cheery chuckle quickly brought Takato back to attention as his gaze instantly shot back to Junta, who seemed to have become overjoyed at Takato's reaction. Embarrassed, Takato felt his face flush with color and immediately turned away. He still wasn't used to all these new emotions that Junta sparked within him. Admitting his infatuation made him feel so vulnerable, even the littlest things could leave him flustered. He felt bad that he never seemed to return the love and devotion Junta showered him with, but he was doing his best to slowly learn how to express himself. _

_ "Ch- Chunta..." The pet name tumbled off his lips entirely naturally now. "You didn't have to do that..." _

_ Junta chuckled once more. "I wanted to! I want to do everything I can to keep Takato-San feeling his best!" _

_ His blush glowing brighter and his mind still struggling to comprehend the surge of emotion, Takato forced the mug between his lips and gulped down the hot beverage, silencing any embarrassing noises that may have escaped in his flustered state.  _

_ Grinning ear to ear, Junta settled himself behind Takato, wrapping his arms around his chest and nuzzling his face into his bony shoulder. "You know, Takato-San..." He smiled, his voice dipping into a familiar low tone. "I know what else is supposed to be good for the immune system." _

_ Takato lowered the mug and exhaled a long sigh. He knew where he was going with this. And the most troubling part was; he couldn't tell if he wanted to stop it or not.  _


	3. Chapter 3

The ambient light pouring in from the hospital window quickly dwindled like a dying flame as the last few rays of sunlight hid behind the horizon line. Another day was drawing to a somber close. Junta smoothly drew the velvety curtains closed. Takato needed his rest, and Junta knew just how much it bothered Takato to be rudely awoken by the light of the pre-dawn sun shining directly into his face. He briefly considered asking a nurse if they couldn't move him into a room without an East facing window, but ultimately decided against it. Takato didn't need the extra stress of being jostled about. 

With the curtain closed, Junta returned to his standard post; the somewhat stiff visitors seat positioned immediately to the left of Takato's bedside. As he settled in, he took just a moment to study the wall of electronic screens and gadgets looming behind Takato's head. While he may not have had the most medical knowledge, he had come to memorize what numbers the nurses saw as optimal, and was constantly monitoring the readouts for any sudden changes. If something shifted, he would be well aware before the nurses' alarm even had a chance to go off. But the numbers had been pretty stable all day. 'Not the best they could be', the ER doctor had said, 'but well within acceptable ranges, considering the patients ailment'. Pretty much the same news Junta had been receiving during his entire stay. 

Before he had a chance to grab his backpack from its place beside him, a gentle knocking at the partially opened door grabbed Junta's attention. His eyes flickered with a fiercely protective readiness. He couldn't help but be on edge whenever Takato was concerned, despite his best efforts. But the determination and retaliatory instinct faded just as quickly as they had come when the door slowly pushed open and he saw who it was that had entered. 

"Good evening, Azumaya-Kun." The man at the door greeted, a tinge of sadness hidden behind his glasses that contradicted his cheery smile. "Sorry I couldn't make it any sooner. Things have been pretty hectic. How's he doing tonight?"

Junta offered his own smile in return as he watched Takato's manager carefully cross the floor and take a seat in the available chair beside him. "No changes yet, Sasaki-San." He replied. "He's pretty much been asleep all day. The antibiotics are in full swing now, so the doctors think those will keep him knocked out for a while. No word on when they can take him off the vent yet."

"I see." Sasaki sighed in quiet understanding. He fixed his eyes on Takato's limp form laying upon the bed before him. His chest would rise and fall so unnaturally, all his breathing being forced by the mechanical ventilator via the intubation tube leading down his throat and into his windpipe. Other than that, however, his body was perfectly still. No twitches from antsy fingers, no re-positioning of arms or legs, not even the flickering of eyes in motion set behind closed eye lids. It was a painful sight to behold. But the kindhearted manager knew better than to add to the concerns of the emotionally fatigued man beside him, and so did his best to keep a lighter atmosphere. "Better that he sleeps though, yeah? It's always so hard to get Takato-Kun to take it easy even just for a little while. He'd probably be miserable and bored brainless if he were awake, heh."

Junta breathed an honest chuckle, thankful for Sasaki's more optimistic approach. "He'd probably still be trying to go to work, too. Takato-San is always pushing himself to do the most he can as best as he can manage. His strength and determination are some of the things I admire most about him."

Sasaki nodded in full agreement, leaning back in his rigid chair with a wistful sigh. From the pouch still hung around his shoulder, he produced an intricately decorated ring-bound notebook, a pen with his name and agency printed along its side, and a few sets of messy papers stapled together. Junta watched with an innocent curiosity as he opened the notebook, revealed to be an hour-by-hour schedule he had handwritten for Takato, and set to altering appointments and rehearsals appropriately, since it was clear he wouldn't be well in time for them. Takato may have been ill, and Sasaki may have been worried about him, but he was still Takato's manager, and it was his job to make sure the actor could get himself back on track when all this chaos finally passed. 

Remembering his own paperwork he still had to take care of, Junta retrieved his blue folder filled with an assortment of important information and settled in next to Sasaki to work side by side in a soothing silence. Even without speaking, having Takato's manager there with him made Junta feel far more at ease. Sasaki-San was one of a very short list of people that Junta felt comfortable accompanying him and Takato. He knew the two had worked as manager and client for a very long time, and he could easily see the strong friendship they shared. And, unlike almost everyone else they knew, Junta fully trusted Sasaki with Takato. The clever manager had caught on rather quickly to the two actors relationship when it first began to blossom, yet he always seemed to be on their side, happily encouraging the bond when he saw how positively it had affected Takato's personality and general outlook on life. Junta never had to worry about Sasaki stealing Takato away or trying to convince him to abandon his younger beau so as to focus more on his acting career. He was a kind man with a pure heart, and Junta considered him a true friend. He was so very thankful for his frequent company during this trying time while Takato slowly made his recovery. 

In fact, Junta found himself so relaxed working beside Sasaki that he hardly noticed as the evening hours began to peacefully pass them by. 

It was around nine pm when Sasaki's wristwatch began to rhythmically chirp in a hushed alarm, snapping the two men out of their mild trance. Junta took a brief moment to stretch his stiffened muscles while Sasaki silenced the electronic beeping and began to reorganize his things. 

"Are you heading home tonight, Azumaya-Kun?" Sasaki asked gently as he returned his notebook to his pack, turning towards Junta with a sleepy, emotionally exhausted sort of smile. 

Junta turned to face Takato's prone form and slowly shook his head. "No, I can't." He sighed. "Someone has to keep an eye on Takato-San. I'd hate for him to wake up with nobody beside him."

"Are you sure?" Sasaki tilted his head. "I could stay instead if you wanted to go back home for a bit. I don't mind watching over him for a night."

Breathing a long exhale of quiet consideration, Junta turned his face away from the bright eyed manager and shook his head once again. "I really appreciate it, but I'll be okay."

Pausing only momentarily so he could carefully choose his next words, Sasaki leaned closer and placed a sturdy hand on Junta's wide shoulder, an expression of sincere concern overtaking his softened face. "Hey. I know how worried you are about him." He began, nothing but understanding in his gentle voice. "But you gotta make sure you take care of yourself too, alright? Takato-Kun worries about you more than he'll ever admit. He'd hate to find out you've stopped taking proper care of yourself to care for him."

When Junta turned to face Sasaki once more, there was a faint glitter of an aggressive determination flickering deep within his golden eyes. The manager immediately took notice of this and knew better than to push the issue any further. Junta was paranoid of anything coming between himself and Takato. At times, his possessiveness could become downright scary. And, though Sasaki was only offering his own concern, he was treading on thin ice, getting dangerously close to becoming a threat in Junta's eyes. 

To ease the mounting tension, Sasaki offered a reassuring pat to Junta's wide shoulder and returned his expression to his sleepier smile. "Just don't push yourself too hard, alright?" He offered gently, still determined to make his point. "You need your rest, too. And try to stay fed and hydrated, yeah? For me and for Takato-Kun." 

Seemingly appeased, Junta's rigid posture loosened and he chuffed a quick chuckle. "Alright." He agreed, turning to face Takato's bed ridden self once more. "For you."

With that sorted out, Sasaki slowly rose to take his leave, triple checking to make sure all his important things were in order. As he sifted through his pack, a sudden steak of color caught his eye. Junta watched as the managers face lit up in recognition of the item, an idea instantly taking shape in his mind. 

Sasaki grinned brightly as he walked around to the other side of Takato's hospital bed, plucking the object out before setting the rest of his pack aside. Junta curiously studied the mysterious object with sparkling eyes. It was a small length of coarse twine tied in a barely bracelet sized loop, with a single koinobori made of somewhat crudely cut felt dangling from the string, decorated with mismatched blue scales, uneven black eyes, and an explosion of different colored felt strips erupting from the bottom as its tail. 

"What's that?" Junta asked, intrigued. 

Sasaki breathed an airy laugh at the little fish trinket. "It's a good luck charm my little daughter made for me. I almost always have it with me, especially when Takato-Kun is auditioning for a particularly picky director." He reached out a hand and carefully looped the twine around Takato's ear, letting the little fish lay on his shoulder and almost making it look like an over-sized earring dangle. Even as he brushed a finger to rearrange his messy black hair, Takato didn't so much as stir from the contact, and continued his harsh, half mechanical breathing. "That's why I'm loaning it to him. Sometimes a little lucky charm is all you need. Maybe this can bring him the good luck he needs to start feeling better. I know Nana won't mind, since she would want Takato-kun to get better too."

Junta's eyes remained locked on the fascinating trinket as Sasaki rose again and placed his pack on his shoulder. A good luck charm... Maybe that was the sort of thing Takato needed. 

When a nurse suddenly appeared in the doorway with one of the hospitals "sleeper-chairs" that Junta had requested earlier, Sasaki decided it was time to take his leave for the night. Between his daughter's charm and Junta's unwavering vigilance, he knew Takato would be in good hands. 

As the nurse exited with a thanks from Junta, Sasaki followed after her, pausing in the doorway to look back at Junta. "I'll be visiting again later tomorrow. But remember that you can call me anytime if you need a break, alright?" He whispered, fatigue beginning to show through his sleepy voice. "Take care, both of you. I hope the Koinobori brings you all the luck you need."

Junta nodded towards Sasaki, his expression teeming with sheer appreciation. "Thank you, Sasaki-san. I'll make sure he makes a full recovery!"

As Sasaki finally departed, closing the heavy door behind him, he couldn't help but sadly shake his head. He hadn't wanted to appear pessimistic in front of Junta. But with how long Takato had been unconscious; Sasaki was beginning to wonder if he was ever going to wake up again, let alone be able to breathe on his own once more. 

But Junta's mind refused to even consider the possibility of a negative outcome. He knew Takato would get better. Takato was strong. Takato was stubborn. It wouldn't be much longer before he woke up complaining about missing work and demanding to be discharged immediately. 

Still, though, a little extra luck never hurt. Junta excitedly moved his bag onto the sleeper chair, grabbing something he had kept hidden in an inner pocket. 

"Takato-san~! I have something else for you!" Junta chirped, gleefully approaching Takato's bedside with his hands hidden behind his back. 

"Now, I know you don't like hospital gift shops. You say they're greedy stores filled with overpriced junk that it tries to guilt you into buying, and that everything in them is a waste of money." Junta teased, casting a grin towards his feet as he rocked back and forth on his heels. "But I saw these in the window of the store on my way to the food court with Taguchi-San, and I just had to get them!"

With a triumphant 'Ta-da!', Junta revealed the two objects hidden behind his person. It was two little plushies, one in either hand. One was shaped like a little gray cat, the other appeared to be some form of dog, and both were wearing finely detailed medical outfits. The cat bore a long doctors coat complete with a little plastic stethoscope looped around its neck, while the dog was covered in classic green scrubs and clutched a clipboard in one paw. 

"See? Look here! Don't these little friends remind you of our characters in Mid-Afternoon Star?" Junta laughed, pressing the two plushes against his cheeks and smiling as bright as the sun. "I named the cat Sendou and the dog is Ichinose! One for each of us! I wanted to wait for you to wake up to show you them, but maybe it can be your good luck charm to help you get better!"

Junta couldn't help but be a tad disappointed when he opened his sparkling eyes and saw that his surprise still hadn't been enough to rouse the sleeping Takato. But the dolls would help with that! He maintained his enthusiastic smile as he took a step forward, pressing himself against the bulky bed-frame so he could reach out and tuck the little scrub covered dog beneath Takato's limp hand, careful not to disturb the IV lines in his wrist or the pulse monitor on his finger. 

"There." He stated proudly, admiring the little pup now nestled comfortably between Takato's hand and hip. "Now it can be like I'm there next to you all the time. And I'll keep Sendou with me so I can hold you close wherever I go. And together they'll be your good luck charms to help you get better and out of this hospital room before you know it!"

Noting still that Takato failed to react in any discernible way, Junta couldn't stop the long sigh that escaped him as he leaned his weight onto the beds side rail, his smile wavering but never falling. 

"You have to get better soon, Takato-san." Junta sleepily mumbled. "I miss getting to hear your voice."


	4. Chapter 4

_ "Takato-san? I'm back! How have you been feeling today?" _

_ Nestled on the couch in a cocoon of haphazardly arranged blankets and pillows, Takato stirred from his slumber, emitting a pathetic, muted, and embarrassingly needy whimpering. Just as he expected, Junta responded by immediately springing into action at the sound, bounding out of the apartments entryway, coming to a halt at the couch and carefully unwrapping the thick layers of fleece encasing the older man. Takato weakly blinked his eyes back into focus as the final blanket was peeled back and his ghastly face was revealed, allowing Junta to see just how bad his condition had become.  _

_ Days had passed since Junta had forced Takato to see a doctor for his worsening cough. The medical professional had diagnosed him with an acute yet run-of-the-mill respiratory infection, most likely brought about by some common flu-bug. Due to Takato's rattling wheeze and significant decrease in energy, he had been prescribed a strong round of antibiotics, as well as plenty of fluids and bed rest. Takato had left the doctor's office confident that, with the help of the medication, he'd have this illness beat in a matter of a day or two, and had chosen to stubbornly continue working throughout his recovery.  _

_ Unfortunately, his health failed to recover as expected, and his symptoms only continued to worsen.  _

_ By the end of the week, Takato was too weak to fight against Junta's nonstop insistence that he stay home from the studio and rest. For the first time in what felt like ages, Takato had called in sick and taken the day off.  _

_ It felt so wrong. Here was the great actor Takato Saijou; too pathetic to come in for rehearsal because of some insignificant cold virus that had somehow gotten the better of him. He hated feeling so powerless. Instead of getting the much needed rest he had been prescribed, Takato had spent the entire day lying around and mentally kicking himself for missing even one day of work. The only thing that managed to keep him from finally breaking and racing back to the studio against doctor's orders had been Junta's promise to him that morning. Though Junta had also wanted to call in so he could spend the day nursing him back to health, Takato more or less demanded that Junta continue going to work as usual. Even though a part of his subconscious feared Junta's talent would one day eclipse his, a larger part of him wanted to take the younger actor under his wing and teach him what it meant to be a professional in this industry. Junta ultimately conceded to Takato's wishes, but promised him as he made his way out the door that he'd come straight over the second rehearsals ended for the day, and that he'd spend the entire evening right by Takato's side.  _

_ As his condition continued to decline by the hour, Takato found himself more and more eager for Junta's return. Feeling vulnerable was something new and scary to the experienced actor, and it made Takato's mind revert to a rather childlike state; desperate for protection and tender loving care. He had briefly pondered if this transformation stemmed from his stunted emotional development from having grown up as a hard working child celebrity who had embraced adulthood all too soon, but ultimately decided he was too sick to care about the psychology of it all.  _

_ He was just happy to have Junta here and now, ready to do whatever he could to help. _

_ "Takato-san! You're so pale!" Junta worriedly whispered, gently placing the back of one of his bulky, angular hands to Takato's delicate forehead. "And your fever has gone up again! You're burning up!" _

_ With an airy whine, Takato nuzzled his face against Junta's extremity, his intelligent yet somewhat manipulative mind keenly aware of just how to tug at the younger man's heart strings.  _

_ It worked like a charm.  _

_ Junta daintily removed the entirety of the blanket mass from his overheating companion. "Alright, Takato-san." He cooed, hiding his worry behind a serene smile. He slipped his hands beneath Takato's svelte frame and easily hefted him into his arms, cradled against his flat chest, with Takato gasping a hushed yelp of surprise at the movement. "Let's get you back in your bed. It's a much better place for you to rest." Junta offered tiny pats to his partner's shoulder as he carried him down the hall towards his bedroom, ignoring any wriggling protests that may have arisen. "The humidifier is all set up and your medicine should still be on your nightstand where you left it. You get comfy, and I'll get started on a nice hot bowl of okayu for your dinner." _

_ Before Takato could offer any sort of response or refusal, he was dropped onto his queen size mattress with a cushioned 'thump'. Junta rearranged the pillows beneath his head and tucked the blankets around him as he continued to speak his plans aloud, not leaving any room for rebuttals. By the time Takato got a chance to refuse the generous amount of help he had been offered, Junta was already out the door, no doubt getting situated in Takato's kitchen to prepare him a home cooked meal. It had all happened so fast; and now that Takato had a chance to process it all, he felt almost guilty. Junta was always so prepared to do or give anything to the older man, no matter how busy his own day had been. Takato wondered if he really deserved this level of devotion, especially when he often found himself too embarrassed by his feelings to return the favor.  _

_ But Takato knew that Junta was stubborn; perhaps even more so than himself. When his mind was set on something, there would be no stopping him. So the sickly actor ultimately decided to let Junta do as he wished. Besides, a hot meal had sounded pretty good.  _

_ Takato settled into the perfectly prepared pillow stack behind him and breathed a sigh, followed quickly by a brief fit of harsh coughing. He could hear Junta had turned the humidifier back on. The little machine buzzed with a watery hum and puffed out steam at a steady pace, which felt impressively soothing on his irritated throat. He lifted himself just enough to snatch the prescription bottle at his bedside and toss another antibiotic down his throat, hopeful that this would be the one that finally finishes off this horrible illness. His eyes began to feel heavier as they wandered about the bedroom, studying every inch of the ultra modern apartment decorations all around him as he let Junta's distant upbeat humming lull him slowly to sleep.  _

_ He wasn't sure how long he had been out by the time Junta reappeared in the doorway, a steaming bowl of okayu in his palms and a huge smile of accomplishment upon his lips. Takato managed to wriggle his way up the pillows into a slightly more upright position just before Junta plopped down heavily on the bed just beside him. Junta had a habit of placing himself intimately close to Takato whenever humanly possible, and this illness hadn't changed that fact in the slightest. He wasn't just next to Takato; his entire side was pressed up against him. Takato squirmed with a hint of embarrassment as Junta settled in, still attempting to normalize himself with someone so physically affectionate.  _

_ When he was satisfied with his spot, Junta raised the bowl again, and Takato feebly extended his hands expectantly. Though he had been surprised by the realization that his muscles had become so feeble in this illness that his hands couldn't stop shaking, he was more surprised to see Junta react to his gesture by pulling the bowl away from him and sternly shaking his head.  _

_ "Takato-san is too weak to do this himself." Junta explained, giving the porridge a quick stir. "I wouldn't want it to spill. It's still quite hot." He removed a small scoop of the thick sustenance and pushed the spoon close to Takato's face with a sing-song chirp of 'ahhn~!' _

_ Realization hit him like a brick to the face, and Takato immediately pulled his mouth as far from Junta as he could, his cheeks erupting with heat. "Chunta... You don't have to do that... I can feed myself..." Takato wheezed, the strain of his twisted posture irritating his already injured airways and sending him into another bout of uncontrolled hacking. As he tried his best to calm the sudden cough, he felt a wide yet remarkably gentle hand rhythmically pat his back to assist him.  _

_ "Please, Takato-san..." Junta urged with a note of concern in his voice. His breathing back under control, Takato turned back towards the younger man to find that same heartfelt concern visible within his expression. "I want to help you." _

_ Takato sighed as he felt himself beginning to concede, but a second glance down towards the spoon being offered in his direction reignited his refusal. The idea of being spoon fed was simply too embarrassing. Takato was convinced it was because it was too intimate for his liking. But Junta was well aware that it was the act of making himself even more vulnerable that Takato was really avoiding. All his life, Takato had proven to others how strong he could be. Allowing someone else to take control was foreign and terrifying. Takato had never learned to trust someone else enough to be one hundred percent open and honest with them. The walls around his heart were an omnipresent defense mechanism that he had long since forgotten how to break. But then he met Junta; the man who had made it his lifes mission to chip away those heavy walls and earn a permanent place in the veteran actors heart. So, despite his embarrassment, Junta was not about to yield. _

_ Besides; Takato knew full well that he really didn't have the manual strength or dexterity needed to do this himself right now. The illness was leaving him weaker by the minute. He puffed a frustrated grunt, shifted downward slightly into a poutier sort of posture, and let his mouth fall open, his eyes purposefully pointed the other way.  _

_ Satisfied, Junta smiled with honest relief, and he carefully maneuvered the utensil gently into Takato's mouth. He knew Takato's cooperation was hanging by a tiny thread, and even the slightest miss or spill would end the interaction entirely. Takato was slow to accept the bite, making a point to quickly nip the very tip of the spoon to signify his disapproval and keeping his gaze set in the opposite direction. Junta had to repress a chuckle; it was always so cute to him when Takato was being stubborn. But he maintained his composure for Takato's sake and only continued smiling as he scooped up a second bite of porridge.  _

_ But as he moved to deliver the portion to Takato's expectant mouth, he suddenly saw a single tear drip from an eye and quickly roll down Takato's cheek. A closer look at his expression revealed puffy eyes, squinting lids, and a deep red staining all the way to his neck; Takato was crying.  _

_ As he fed the okayu into his mouth with his right hand, Junta slowly reached out with his left, carefully cradling Takato's cheek in his palm and brushing away the tear with his thumb. The action caused the older man to flinch slightly, but he didn't pull away as Junta had feared. Instead, he turned his face into the touch, trying his hardest to muffle his sobs as he swallowed the bite of warm food.  _

_ "Please don't cry, Takato-san." Junta murmured, continuing to stroke Takato's heated cheek. "I only want to help you get better." _

_ Takato, his face still hidden, shook his heavy head. "Chunta..." He whispered, his voice affected both by illness and by sadness and his mind plagued with fatigue induced delirium. "You deserve someone better than me. You deserve someone who does as much for you as you do for me. Someone who will treat you right and return all the kindness that I haven't earned. I'll never be able to repay you for all the things you do for me."  _

_ Junta breathed a quiet chuckle and gently yet forcefully pointed Takato's face towards his, bloodshot blue irises struggling to maintain eye contact through constant waves of tears.  _

_ "I don't want anyone else." Junta smiled. "I have everything I could ever want right here. All I ask in return is that you stay here with me. I want to live my entire life with you at my side." _


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. Just got finished shuffling around a lot of things about the story. Still really nervous about my own writing, but I'm trying to power through so I can finish this story.   
> Extra special thanks to the two people who have done so much for me to help me get this out there. I'll most likely name them in the credits, but only if they decide to give me permission to share their usernames. 
> 
> Side note because I've been asked: This story has NOTHING to do with Corona Virus. The entire plot was written BEFORE any of that stuff started. So, no. That wasn't the inspiration for this story nor is it what has infected Takato. 
> 
> Please tell me your thoughts about the chapter. That's all I had to say! No more interruptions, I promise.

Every morning at around 8am, just as the light from the rising sun began creeping its way up the hospital bed, Takato's currently assigned nurse would pop in for another routine check of his vital signs. Every morning, this would wake Junta from his slumber in the stiff sleeper chair and, every morning, the nurse on duty would apologize profusely for the interruption. But Junta never minded. He would ease their worries with one of his dazzling smiles and a cheerful greeting. After all, it wasn't really their fault. Junta's already protectively possessive nature was amplified by Takato's poor condition, turning the man into a human watch-dog. Even in his sleep, he was keenly aware of everything around him, making sure no danger could befall his beloved in his weakened state. Any sound or movement of any kind would have been enough to wake him. 

The nurse assigned to Takato on this particular morning was one who had already worked with him a few times during his stay. Of course, Takato was unaware of this, since he had fallen unconscious mere hours after his admission and hadn't woken since. But Junta easily recognized the familiar face. He had become particularly fond of this specific nurse. Even with all the time Junta spent at Takato's bedside, many of the other nurses often found it unnecessary to pass on information of Takato's condition to Junta. After all, the two men weren't really related, by blood or by law (though Junta was now more determined than ever to rectify this so as to avoid running into this situation ever again). None of the medical personnel cared enough to notice their relationship and, recognizing both as actors, simply assumed they were nothing more than close friends. But this 30 something nurse with black hair and chocolate brown eyes immediately understood what was going on, and she made it a point to update Junta as much as she would for a patients fiance or spouse. She also tended to work quickly and diligently, always double checking all her readings, making her a fast favorite of Junta's. He wanted the best care possible for his Takato-san, and he trusted this nurse to deliver. 

After their standard song and dance of entering, awakening, apologizing, and greeting, the ultra attentive nurse immediately began with Takato's vitals as Junta slowly stretched his aching joints to prepare for the day ahead. As he lifted his arms over his head, reaching towards the ceiling with a chorus of creaks and cracks, he was mildly surprised to find something had fallen from his elbow and onto the floor beside him. One sleepy glance was all it took to recognize the little doctor cat plush he had purchased the day before. He smiled, breathing a fond sigh as he plucked the little 'Sendou' from the sterile floor and began gently adjusting its little clothes and instruments that had been knocked askew overnight. 

"Well well, Saijou-San!" The nurse playfully chirped from Takato's bedside, loud enough so Junta could hear her. "Your temperature is finally starting to come back down to a more reasonable level, and your blood pressure seems to have improved overnight!" She shot a quick smile towards Junta. "Looks like those good luck charms of yours are really helping, huh?"

Junta's face immediately lit up from the new information and he sat up in a flash. "Really? He's getting better?"

"Could be." The nurse nodded, packing away her standard equipment and preparing to take a quick blood sample. "We like to wait for a consistent pattern of improvement before we say anything for certain. But it's definitely a good sign. If we can get his breathing to start improving too, we might even be able to take him off the ventilator."

"That's wonderful news." Junta beamed brightly, hefting his bag over one shoulder and quickly relocating to the visitors chair closest to the hospital bed. He scooted the seat forward with a creak, placing him close enough to Takato to gently run a hefty hand across his clammy forehead. "If you keep fighting, Takato-San, we might be able to go home soon!" 

The nurse finished her standard blood draw and began packing that away, too. Her smile took on a slightly more serious quality when she turned to meet Junta's sparkling golden eyes. "It's definitely good news. But just keep in mind that it's still very touch-and-go. A case as acute as his can be entirely unpredictable at times. That's why we tend to treat it so aggressively." She placed her instruments back on her little rolling table and began writing her findings on Takato's charts. "Now, I'm not saying you shouldn't be hopeful or anything. We just want you to be prepared in case, heaven forbid, things take a sudden turn for the worse."

Junta's smile widened as he nodded understandingly. He knew the medical staff wouldn't let their guards down so easily. But he was certain that Takato would be perfectly fine, just as he had been certain since the illness had first started. After all, he knew Takato better than anybody. He was strong, he was proud, and he was so very stubborn. It would take much more than this troublesome virus to bring Saijou Takato down. He knew they'd be home within the week, this whole incident a thing of the past. 

"Oh, yes! And by the way, Saijou-San." The nurse added, sneakily addressing Takato by name even though the message was clearly meant for Junta. "I guess your parents have arranged to come see you again today. They called quite early, so they should be arriving sometime this morning."

There was a noticeable wavering in Junta's polite expression at this new piece of info, but his smile managed to endure. "Ah. I'm sure Takato-san will appreciate that." He grinned, his voice less enthusiastic than usual. 

With a quick glance revealing a sympathetically understanding expression, the nurse finished her writing and filed her medical charts away in the drawer of her rolling desk. With vitals completed and all her equipment back in order, she rolled her mini station towards the door and onto her next patient of the morning. She stopped only momentarily as she passed beside Junta, taking a second to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

"We'll all keep fighting this as hard as we can, Saijou-san included." She gently assured. "Just make sure you're taking care of yourself, too. Take their visit as an opportunity to step back for a moment and just breathe for a bit. You've already done so much, and we all need a break now and then, even if only for a little while."

Junta immediately thought back to Sasaki-san and Taguchi-san, who had both offered the same piece of advice yesterday. Maybe the nurse was on to something, and this surprise visit was just the excuse he needed to recollect his thoughts. Besides, after weeks of barely eating anything, his hunger and fatigue were really starting to catch up to him.  
He looked toward the nurse and smiled, offering the smallest bow of his head. "Thank you." He replied. "I think I'll do just that."

Junta stayed with Takato for a few more minutes after the nurse departed, petting his forehead in slow soothing strokes that he knew always worked to relax Takato's frayed nerves. Despite the advice of the others, he was still finding it difficult to shake the guilty feeling of leaving Takato's side for even a moment. Still, he'd be no use to the ailing actor if he, too, came down with something from failing to take care of his own health. And when Junta looked down and saw the little puppy Ichinose still cradled in Takato's arm, he felt much better knowing his beloved would never truly be alone.

Junta placed a single tender kiss to Takato's forehead as he stood up to take his leave, not at all surprised but still mildly disheartened at Takato's lack of a physical reaction. "Your parents will be here soon, Takato-san." He promised, gathering his things together and grabbing his Sendou plush from the sleeper chair where he had left him. "I'm gonna grab some breakfast and rest in the waiting room for a while. But you've got Ichinose, and I'm taking Sendou, so we'll stay side by side."

After nestling the little kitten plushie in the front-most pocket of his pack, Junta exited the little hospital room. "Keep on fighting, Takato-san." He called back as he passed the door frame. "Soon, this will all be behind us."

Only after devouring a warm, hearty breakfast did Junta realize just how hungry he had been. The constant aches and grumbles from his stomach that he had accepted as normal were finally dispelled, and his body and overall demeanor seemed much more energized. Even his standard dazzling aura had returned to him, and there was a renewed spring to his step as he returned to Takato's floor and entered the spacious waiting room just down the hall.

As Junta expected, Takato's parents had arrived sometime during his absence, and he caught a quick glance of them standing at Takato's bedside through the hallway window as he passed room 318. He knew better than to greet them, though. It wasn't that Junta disliked them, nor did he think they had any strong opinions about himself. They treated him well and made casual small talk when they had first met on their previous hospital visit. But the two of them either didn't realize what relationship Junta had with their son or, as Junta assumed was more likely, they pretended not to notice. He didn't blame them. It had been immediately apparent after their introductions that Takato hadn't told them such an intimate detail of his life, and they were already preoccupied with fussing over Takato's terrible condition to burden themselves with more worries regarding their sons love life and sexuality. Heaven knew Junta didn't need more negativity plaguing his normally cheery thoughts either, so both parties had silently decided not to push the issue. Junta had made a mental note for himself and Takato to clear things up with them once this illness incident was said and done. After all, Takato seemed to maintain a decent relationship with his parents, unlike Junta. He was determined to make sure they all got along with each other so as to keep that relationship alive. But for now, he would give them some space. 

Which is why he had chosen to while away the time relaxing in the comfy waiting room. It was the perfect opportunity for the mental break he sorely needed, and he would return to his post beside Takato once his parents had taken their leave. Junta chose a particularly cushy looking couch to plop himself on and removed his blue folder from his bag, resuming his paperwork while calmly sipping the aromatic coffee he had brought up from the hospital cafe. 

It wasn't long before he lost himself in the work, barely noticing as the minutes slipped by like seconds.

Junta wasn't sure how long he had been engaged in his activity before a familiar voice startled him back to attention, and he bolted upright to assess who it was. 

"Hey, easy." The somewhat listless looking man quipped, holding his hands up in mock submission. "I didn't mean to startle ya. I just came to ask how you were holding up, that's all."

Junta's posture stiffened slightly as he recognized the man before him. Chihiro Ayagi; a former costar of Takato's with a permanently laid-back expression and a sleazy past he was still trying to outrun. The two hadn't exactly met on the best terms. During production of a play they were costarring in, Ayagi had attempted to take advantage of Takato and later, after ultimately failing to go through with his initial plan, decided to trick Takato as an act of defiance and intimidation. But Junta managed to unravel Ayagi's web of lies. As insurance, he also uncovered some unflattering secrets about Ayagi's less than graceful rise to stardom, and even caught audio of the man himself admitting to having slept with producers and directors in order to get what he wanted. Junta now holds on to the recording, threatening to make his findings public if Ayagi should ever try anything to Takato again. 

Surprisingly enough, Ayagi's misadventures with Takato and Junta ultimately brought about an incredible transformation in the misguided man, leading to an unlikely friendship forming between the actors. The thorough acting advice and honest praise Takato gave him renewed Ayagi's confidence in his own on-set abilities, and Junta's retaliation to his tricks served as a harsh dose of reality, leaving him feeling guilty for his past actions. That guilt, paired with personally experiencing the heartbreak of an unrequited love, left Ayagi determined to make his peace with those he wronged, trusting his actual acting talent to progress his career rather than underhanded shenanigans. And though he still enjoyed teasing and testing just how far he could push his luck with Takato before Junta would push back, he had no real intentions of separating the two of them. He could see how happy they made each other, and would actually go out of his way to help them whenever one or both seemed upset. After all, life for him felt much more rewarding since his transformation. He would be forever indebted to the couple, and saw them as his friends and mentors, even if he tended to get along a tad better with Takato than with Junta.

As for Junta, his stance on Ayagi was far more indifferent. It's true that at first Junta hadn't believed Ayagi when he admitted to trying to better himself as an actor and overall human being, but it didn't take long for him to realize the man was in fact serious. And though he had eventually forgiven him for what he tried to do to Takato, he still was always cautious, watching quietly from afar whenever the two would meet up without him. As much as he had come around to the aloof actor and his odd sense of humor, he could never be too careful when Takato was concerned. 

"You... came to check up on us?" Junta questioned, his thoughts still mildly jumbled due to his work and the interruption from the unexpected visitor.

Ayagi nodded, folding his arms across his flat chest. "Honestly, I meant to come sooner, but I was on location until late yesterday." He sighed as his standard smirk withered into a solemn expression. "I had heard that Saijou-San had been hospitalized a while ago, but I never thought it would've been something bad enough to keep him here this long. And I figured you must've spent the whole time glued to his side and worried sick."

"No way... Takato-San's condition is being made public?" Junta's eyes gleamed with honest fear. The last thing Takato needed now was another media frenzy focused around him. 

"Hm? No, no! Not at all!" Ayagi quickly corrected. "I heard about it from my projects director. I guess he's friends with one of the actors in the production you two have been working on. Somehow, the entire industry has managed to keep the whole thing secret from the press and the paparazzi. You shouldn't have to worry about any media circus getting involved."

Junta sighed, relieved. "Well, that's good." He smiled, returning some of his attention to reorganizing his messy assortment of papers. "And I guess I appreciate the sentiment. But I'm hardly 'worried sick'. You know Takato-san. He'll beat this illness and be back to overworking himself before anyone can stop him." Junta laughed to himself.

But Ayagi didn't seem as amused, his expression oddly stoic with the exception of a single raised eyebrow. "Yeeeah..." He murmured, keeping a careful watch for any negative reactions as he slowly and stiffly sat himself down in the seat beside Junta, his arms still anchored against his rib-cage. "So, then... What is this you're doing here?" He gestured towards the strewn papers, attempting to change the subject.

"Ah, yes. I'm working on putting together a few good palate options for Takato-san while his parents are spending some time with him." Junta's face immediately brightened with excitement and pride. "Since we'll be moving in together soon, I wanted to get paint colors and flooring and hard surfaces all figured out now. That way we can do all the renovating first and get it out of the way. Since Takato-san isn't able to give any input in his condition, I'm assembling several choices for him that I know match his tastes, and he can pick one out when he's feeling better. I thought it would be a good way to motivate him to recover and get discharged even faster."

Though Junta was shining with a radiant optimism and a child like excitement, Ayagi only appeared more confused and concerned. "You didn't want to be there with his parents..?" 

"Ehm. Well..." Junta shrugged, still managing a grin. "I'm not sure they're my biggest fans. Besides, I think they're really upset. They seem to believe this is all a lot more serious than it really is."

Ayagi leaned forward in the chair with his hands folded between his knees, his eyes silently demanding Junta's attention with a mildly uneasy expression. "I mean... I just spoke with them." He explained, trying his hardest to maintain a caring tone in his normally dry speech pattern. "And it sounds like it is that serious. They didn't seem to think Saijou-san has shown any improvements at all. I guess a doctor even suggested considering putting his final affairs in order..."

As the words left his mouth, Ayagi braced himself for Junta's inevitable reaction, which he assumed would most likely be one of physical violence towards himself. But just as he clenched his eyes closed, he was shocked to hear Junta bark out an honest laugh, concern all but absent in his demeanor. 

"Wow, Takato-san's got everyone worried about him, huh?" Junta shook his head with a chuckle. "Not me, though. I know him better than anyone. Takato-san isn't going anywhere. He promised me. He's not the kind of person to give up just because things seem a little difficult. You'll see; he'll get better. And then everyone will feel silly for worrying so much."

Ayagi cringed at the ignorant innocence of Junta's argument. "I don't really think that a promise can--" He began, but cut himself off abruptly when he turned to meet Junta's gaze once more. 

He could see it. It tried its best to stay concealed, but he could see it was there. Hiding just beneath the facade of blissful ignorance, of blind trust in his beloved that was deaf to any uncertainty or pessimism. Deep in Junta's gaze, Ayagi could see that tiny flicker of doubt; the intense, heart breaking fear of becoming lost, of being left alone. It was there, but Junta was doing all he could to repress it.

And Ayagi didn't have the heart to pull that intense emotional suffering to the surface. 

Instead, Ayagi simply sighed, rethinking his words so as to tiptoe around the sensitive subject while still offering what support he could. "Look... I admit Saijou-san is a stubborn guy, and I know the two of you will keep fighting this thing until the bitter end." He explained carefully, watching as the briefly exposed fear in Junta's eyes once again sank into the thick fog of denial. "And I know that I'm probably not your first choice for sympathy. But... Well, just let me know if you ever need someone to talk, okay?"

Junta's expressions shifted quickly from surprise to mild suspicion, then ultimately settled into appreciation. He gave Ayagi a single, deliberate nod, acknowledging his kind offer. But in his mind, Junta knew he wouldn't have any reason to take him up on that offer. 

Because Takato was getting better. Junta refused to believe otherwise.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had this one mostly completed for a while. Finally got around to posting.   
> Please remember to give your feedback. Thank you!

_ The bedside clock had only just passed 2 am when Junta was awoken by feeble hands straining to grip the sleeves of his loose night shirt. The incessant tugging of cloth was accompanied by a fit of loud, forceful coughing that rattled the entire bed frame and left Takato unable to even beg for assistance. And the fit seemed almost endless. Takato could barely catch his breath before the next wave of unstoppable hacking would start. His physical efforts towards communication paid off, though, as the prodding successfully roused Junta out of his restful sleep and into a state of readiness and high alert as he quickly recognized the sounds all around him and instantly deduced what the problem was. Junta nearly threw himself out of Takato's bed, ready to help however he could.  _

_ Junta had already lost track of how long it had been since Takato initially showed signs of this illness. Even with the antibiotics, Takato was still getting worse with each passing day. It already felt like a week since Takato had to start calling off work, and as things progressed, it hadn't been long before Junta was also forced to call in so as to take care of the ailing actor, who had become so ill that he could barely walk under his own power without passing out. Junta did absolutely everything he could to improve Takato's dwindling health; he cooked homemade meals three times a day, kept up with all his medications, set up humidifiers all over the house, and even took to carrying Takato wherever he needed to go. He also kept in constant contact with the doctor, who never gave up and who continued to prescribe more medicines and treatments as it became clearer that this virus wasn't about to leave without a fight.  _

_ The illness had taken quite a toll on Takato's mental state as well. The constant wheezing and overall difficulty breathing was steadily lowering the oxygen levels in his blood, leaving him in a permanent state of confusion and mild derangement. Coupled with the symptoms of his fever, Takato was completely helpless. He was too weak to move, too dazed to keep track of medications, and too delirious to be left alone. Fans and coworkers who knew Takato Saijou as the brilliantly talented veteran actor with a fiercely competitive nature and a stubbornly headstrong attitude would never have recognized him as this feeble, sickly whelp he was now, so disoriented that he could barely string a cohesive sentence together.  _

_ When he once more found a small window of control between coughing fits, he barely managed to choke out three words.  _

_ "I... Can't breathe..." _

_ But Junta was already fully awake and well aware of Takato's situation, and was already in the process of swiftly yet gently scooping the sickly mans frail frame from the mattress to whisk him away to the living room and provide the care he needed. As he maneuvered him down the halls, he noticed that he could actually feel the rattling sound accompanying Takato's breathing; a sign indicative of fluid pockets within his lungs. No wonder he was coughing so violently. Still, though, the cough wasn't helping, since it still failed to extract anything through Takato's raw, over-inflamed airways. _

_ Junta quickly placed his smaller companion onto the sleek living room couch, making sure his head was significantly propped up on various throw pillows to avoid pinching his airway shut. With Takato settled, he sat himself down on the edge of the matching armchair and turned his attention to the device he had left set up on the coffee table for just this situation. He dexterously opened the case and extracted the complex tangle of tubes and plastic components, as well as a small vial of medication that he dumped inside the things main chamber. In no time at all, he had the almost sci-fi esque contraption ready for use, and he handed the mouthpiece topped hose to the ailing actor still struggling to breathe.  _

_ With delirium slowing his mind and pure exhaustion slowing his weak extremities, it took Takato a bit of time to persuade the plastic piece into his mouth, his hand and teeth feebely attempting to hold it in place with what pitiful grip they could manage. As soon as it was in place, Junta flipped the heavy switch inside the case, and the nebulizer rumbled and sputtered to life. Within seconds, it was functioning perfectly; using pressure to aerosolize the medicine sloshing in its container into a wispy white mist funneled directly into Takato's mouth. The process was noisy, the machine emitting sounds more fitting of heavy construction or industrial contraptions rather than a suitcase sized medical device. But it had been the only thing prescribed to him that could pull him out of a severe respiratory fit like the one that currently had him in its grasp. _

_ The first few lung-fulls of mist Takato took in actually made him cough harder as the medicine set to opening irritated airways. But by the eleventh or twelfth puff of white vapors, Takato's breathing finally began to even out, with the coughing fits slowly subsiding into deeper albeit more exhausted breaths. This much needed relief also allowed him to finally relax all the muscles that had tightened reflexively in all the hacking and choking chaos, making him appear as though he was slowly melting into the cushions. This, in turn, allowed Junta to finally relax as well, satisfied that the worst of the nocturnal episode had passed. The breathing treatment would last another few minutes before the dose was fully administered, but afterwards they could both go back into bed and rest easy.  _

_ Junta leaned forward in the plush arm chair, reaching out one of his sturdy hands to tenderly comb loving strokes through Takato's sweat-damp mane, watching his bleary blue eyes gently flutter in response. "Alright, Takato-san." He began, speaking only just loud enough to be heard over the machines strained rumbling and hissing. As he spoke, he took a moment to adjust the mouthpiece gripped loosely in Takato's hand and half jammed into the couch beneath him, standing it more upright and making sure the hose was free of kinks or unwanted pressure. "Make sure you keep breathing nice and deep until all the medicine is gone. Your doctor is gonna be bringing a few more tests for you to take tomorrow, and maybe we can get some stronger stuff for this thing, too." Junta gave a final pat to his 'patient's head before pushing himself to his feet with a grunt. "I'll go make more of Takato-sans tea. That way, you can have something nice and warm and soothing to drink to help you sleep better." _

_ Though his unfocused eyes continued to stare blankly into the middle space, Takato had been just barely aware enough to make out most of what his temporary caretaker instructed, and he managed a meager nod of affirmation. Junta smiled and scurried off, briskly crossing the apartment to make his way into the kitchen. As he passed, he could hear Takato emit three muffled coughs, almost completely muted through the medicinal mist blowing the other way, before he once more sighed and sunk into his pillows. Short, tame fits like that were standard while finishing the medication, and were a vast improvement over what they had been mere minutes ago.  _

_ Since Junta had no way of telling when Takato would finally recover, he had gone ahead and prepared plenty of honey, radishes, and mixed spices that went into the special tea. He even had these ingredients already measured and divided into mugs that he kept in the fridge; all that they needed was a cup of hot water and a good stirring and the tea could be ready in a flash. Junta plucked one of the readily prepped mugs from the fridge's middle shelf and plopped it onto the polished counter top next to tea kettle, which he quickly filled with water and set on the stove to boil. While that was going, he took just a quick moment to step to one side and take a glance inside Takato's pantry, scouring the various containers and their labels for anything light and easily digested. After expending all that energy, he figured Takato would be hungry. Junta wanted to do absolutely everything he possibly could to help the person he adored. Seeing him suffer for days in such a poor state was threatening to become more than Junta's heart could handle, but he was determined to persevere. _

_ A harsh, airy sound began echoing through the apartment. The considerable volume of the noise convinced Junta that this was the kettle whistling, and he went to fetch the pot from the burner, surprised at how quick that had been. But one look at the kettle, which hadn't even produced a single wisp of steam, proved that this was not the source of the sound. Junta was just beginning to ponder what other object in the sleek apartment would be capable of making a strained noise like that when a terrible thought hit him. His face paled and his blood instantly ran cold at the realization; it was Takato. Without a second's hesitation, he took off at top speed, sprinting back towards the couch in a panic, desperate to make sure his beloved was alright.  _

_ Takato was caught in yet another violent fit; his weakened chest heaving with each pained, forceful cough. Despite the intensity of each convulsion, the nebulizers repelling pressure continued to muffle the noise into a sort of tight wheeze, almost masking the severity of the uncontrollable episode. But Junta could see from the panicked tension that tightened Takato's face that this was nothing short of an emergency, and so he immediately went into action.  _

_ "Takato-san!" Junta shouted, easily prying the nebulizer mouthpiece out of Takato's near non-existent grip to simultaneously throw it back in the case while switching the loud machine off. "Takato-san, are you alright!? Breathe! You have to breathe!" The younger man was trying his hardest to stay composed as he took one of Takato's shivering hands in his own to offer some sort of comfort and support. With the other, he began rubbing repeated circles between Takato's shoulders somewhat roughly, hoping to help break up whatever was obstructing his airways before oxygen deprivation could set in.  _

_ Surprisingly, Takato was awake and coherent enough to blindly reach out an arm and snag the box of tissues Junta had placed on the table the day before. Gasping in between coughs, he swiftly plucked a total of four sheets from their container and held them firmly to his mouth as the fit continued, his arms shaking violently and cold sweat beginning to cascade from his brow.  _

_ Still looking for ways to improve his breathing, Junta managed to pull the straining man into an upright, seated position, supporting him with an arm around his shoulders, the tissues remaining firmly anchored to his face. The change in posture actually worked better than Junta could have hoped; Takato's airways were no longer kinked and stressed, and his breathing became deeper and far more efficient. After a few more harsh coughs, the severe respiratory fit finally seemed to dissipate into a slow, weary wheeze.  _

_ Junta breathed an enormous sigh of relief as he felt Takato's ultra tense muscles subsequently relax, his face settling into a half asleep expression, his entire form drained of all energy. He wasn't sure what had triggered yet another severe episode, but he tried to convince himself it had just been a reaction to the misty medication. Any other explanation may have proven too painful for Junta to acknowledge, so he was happy to keep himself blissfully ignorant. Now that he was once more settled, Junta could finish the tea, relax with Takato for a moment or two, and then return to bed normally as he had planned.  _

_ But the ignorance tinted glass walls Junta was trying to maintain were suddenly and completely shattered when Takato pulled the tissues from his face in a sleepy daze, thrusting Junta into the cold hard reality that he could no longer ignore.  _

_ The crumpled clump of tissues was covered in huge patches of a rusty red smear. Takato was coughing up blood; and a horrifyingly generous amount at that.  _

_ It didn't matter what Junta had hoped. It didn't matter what Takato had wanted. This was now a true emergency. There was only one thing they could do. _

_ Junta tried his best to hide how violently his arms were shaking as he picked up the soft blanket half strewn on the floor that Takato had had his legs wriggled under earlier and draped it across his shoulders like a cape. Sliding an arm along his back and down his legs as he picked him up ensured that the blanket completely cocooned the disoriented actor as he brought him close to his chest and started for the apartments front door.  _

_ "Takato-san..." Junta began with a noticeable quiver in his voice, looking down to meet Takato's exceptionally groggy yet mildly curious expression that decorated his pale, clammy face. "You aren't well. I know you might not want to, and you can yell at me all you want later... But I'm taking you to the hospital. Now. No exceptions." _

_ The sickly mans unfocused eyes drifted about as if he were battling to stay conscious, yet Takato was ultimately unable to decipher what Junta had said to him in his delirious state. But he trusted Junta with his life, especially in his current, inebriated state. As Junta purposely proceeded through the residence, stopping for just a moment to awkwardly retrieve his keys from the counter top without letting go of his incapacitated beau before bursting into the halls to head for the main floor, Takato weakly rolled as best he could to bury his face in the younger mans chest, needy fingers clinging feebly to his well worn sleep-shirt.  _

_ "Chun...ta." He wheezed, his delirious confusion giving way to a helpless fear.  _

_ "It's going to be alright, Takato-san." Junta declared with unwavering certainty, gently laying the side of his face across Takato's sloppily ruffled hair. "We'll get you to the hospital and they'll do everything they can to make you better again. You're gonna make it through this, Takato-San. I promise." _


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. This took a lot longer than I wanted it to. 
> 
> Please be sure to let me know what you think. Reviews help me to write

"White swan in the river, the eye of cathedrals, false dawn in the leaves, am I. They cannot hide! Who can escape? Who sobs in the valley's tangle? The moon leaves a knife behind in the air, a lead-colored trap that seeks blood's cry. Let me in! I come frozen through walls and windows! Open roofs and breasts where I can be warmed! I'm chilled! My ashes of somnolent metals seek the crown of the fire among streets and mountains."

Junta's strong, dynamic voice flowed effortlessly from within Takato's cramped hospital room, drifting out the door and down the long white hallways, reverberating in a sweet accompaniment to the peaceful ambiance of the surprisingly empty wing. The nurses situated at the central station, whom were enjoying having a few moments to breathe without patients occupying every room of their floor, became entranced by echos of the performance that managed to reach their station. Those who weren't listening to the actual words still found themselves unconsciously moving to the dramatic rhythm of Junta's professional reading, hypnotized by the calculated rise and fall in the actors voice even without a narrative to bring it all together. 

Junta, however, hadn't even noticed he had unwittingly captivated an audience of the third floors medical staff. The only person whom Junta felt compelled to impress right now was the one laid out before him with a charm threaded around an ear and a plushie nestled beneath one arm. Even with the awe inspiring performance the younger man was presenting, Takato remained eerily still, almost as though refusing to display any form of physical response that may prematurely give away his judgment of the act like the harshest of critics. But Junta continued, undeterred. He'd give it his all and win Takato's favor and praise even if it took months to years. 

"But I bring the snow to their shoulders of jasper, and I flood, cold and harsh, the depths of the lakes." He continued, his voice filled with an unbridled passion. "But this night my cheeks will be stained with red blood, and the reeds clustered in wide swathes of air. I have no shadow, nowhere they can hide!"

Suddenly, and for what felt like the first time in days, Takato began to move. The features of his face instinctually clenched into a tight grimace, and his chest began to heave erratically. Junta's powerful voice fell silent all at once, and his eyes immediately shot up towards the stricken man. Just as with the nebulizer, the hissing plastic tubing continually pumping air into his lungs made Takato's reaction almost silent. But Junta instantly recognized the behavior as another coughing fit; the only movement Takato seemed capable of since he had been first intubated. 

Junta leapt to his feet, the "Blood Wedding" paperback instantly forgotten and left to tumble from his fingers onto the sterile floor. He held a strong, steady hand to Takato's chest, firmly pressing him to the mattress in an attempt to stop the coughing convulsions. With his other hand, he gently took hold of the veteran actors head, cradling his pained expression in his bulky palm, his thumb offering soothing strokes across his pale cheek. 

"Takato-san!" He stated sharply, doing his best to keep his voice at a reasonable volume. "It's okay! You'll be okay! Just breathe!"

Despite the younger mans pleading, Takato would continue to spasm for another forty seconds or so, which seemed like a lifetime to Junta as he held him steady, talking him through the episode while keeping an eye on the monitor with Takato's vital signs and praying that the alarm wouldn't sound. Finally, the sudden tension that had tightened the ailing man into a rigid posture melted away, the coughing subsiding in an instant and his face and entire form falling limp once more. The vitals on the monitor, which had come so close to the high readings Junta knew would trigger the alarms, gradually began to ease back down into their steady standard. 

With a heavy sigh of relief, Junta released the other man from his hold and slowly returned to his seat beside him. "You're alright, Takato-san." He began, more attempting to reassure himself than reassuring the unconscious patient. "Just relax. If you get all worked up, you're gonna scare the nurses and make your parents even more upset."

A curious thought hit Junta unexpectedly, and a comforting smile spread across his cheery face. "You know, Takato-san..." He began, leaning forward as if telling a secret. "If you want, I could make you some homemade hot chocolate to help that cough of yours. I'll even add a pinch of cayenne pepper and a spoonful of honey so that its extra sweet, just a little bit spicy, and perfect for soothing a sore throat."

Just as before the short coughing interruption, Takato proved unable to respond nor react. No matter how lively he appeared during these breathing fits, he would immediately return to his eerily still pose. It was always disheartening for his younger companion. Seeing the jarring amount of sudden motion made him hopeful that his beloved was finally awake again and on the road to recovery. And when this was shown to be false, the reality of the situation slammed back into him.

Junta's smile slowly faded away, and he dropped his head onto his arms, using the side of the mattress to prop up his elbows. "You just have to wake up for me, Takato-san." He solemnly whispered. "I can make whatever you want if you just wake up and talk to me again. Please..."

The welcome weight of a warm and understanding palm appeared on Junta's shoulder, and he slowly turned his gaze so as to deduce its owner. Standing there beside the bed, having entered the room only seconds ago with barely a sound, was Ayagi, baring a more empathetic version of his usual lazy expression. Junta was honestly more surprised that Ayagi was still here in the hospital than he was in him sneaking up on him undetected, but he was grateful for the comfort he found in his hold. That was more pessimistic than Junta had been in a long time, and far more than he ever wanted to be. He offered a calm smile to his fellow actor, thankful that someone had come at just the right time. 

"What is that you're reading, there?" Ayagi asked when his eyes found the book Junta had retrieved from the pale floor, awkwardly attempting to start a conversation without immediately jumping into the sick man's current condition. 

Junta, mildly confused that Ayagi had chosen to remain standing rather than taking the empty seat just beside him, widened his smile and turned the book to reveal its glossy cover. 

"It's Blood Wedding by Garcia Lorca." He explained. "This is what we'll be performing together. I know how much Takato-san likes to research his roles beforehand, so I picked up a novelization and have been reading it to him while he's been resting."

Ayagi's expression remained puzzled, but he nodded anyway as if he understood. Junta would've gone on to explain further, but a voice from just outside Takato's open doorway cut him off before he could even begin. 

"Ayagi-san?" The older, time worn voice questioned in a somber tone. "They're ready for us now."

"Ah, yes..." Ayagi put a hand to his neck, his eyes darting away as though refusing to meet Junta's curious gaze. "Saijou-san's doctor is about to give his parents a full update on his current condition." He mumbled sounding vaguely unsure of himself. "I told them that... Well, I think you deserve to hear it too, yeah?"

It had been a good while since the doctors last spoke with anyone about how Takato was doing and what to expect moving forward. Still, Junta couldn't help but be mildly surprised. As far as he could tell, Takato was continuing the same steady improvement he had started since his intubation, so they would have nothing new to tell him. Any evidence that didn't support that fact was simply ignored. 

Deciding it was in Takato's best interest to stay fully up to speed and thankful that his parents were finally including him as part of his closest confidants, Junta flashed a dazzling smile and agreed to join them for the meeting. He gave one last word of assurance to his beloved before picking up his bag and following Ayagi out of the room and into one of the private waiting rooms on the other side of the hospital floor. 

Despite the obvious efforts to appear more calm and comforting, the private waiting room held an air of uncertainty and despair. Most of the confined space was taken up by the large meeting table and its accompanying seats, as well as the dry erase board set just in front of it. Besides those objects, it was hard to ignore the assortment of grief and counseling pamphlets arranged in pockets along the wall or the abundance of tissues scattered about the tables surface. Yet Junta still managed to keep a light hearted expression as he sat himself at the table across from Takato's aging parents with Ayagi acting as a buffer between them, not even allowing their concerned faces to bring him down.   
And just as they were settling in, the doctor arrived. 

Even as the one in charge of Takato's care, Junta had only seen the man once before. He was an older, lanky fellow somewhere in his sixties with gray hair, gaunt cheeks, and glasses that hung precariously from the tip of his nose. He entered the room with little more than a grim 'hello', closing the door behind him and making his way toward the dry erase board. He tossed a bulky folder of medical papers onto the table in front of him and breathed a heavy sigh, then jumped into his assessment before anyone could say otherwise. 

"I'm sorry this has been such a hard time for all of you." He began, plucking a green marker from the front of the white board. "And I know you probably have a lot of questions regarding Saijou-sans condition. I want to take just a moment to explain to you exactly what's been going on and why he doesn't seem to be getting any better."

Junta saw out of the corner of his eye as Takato's mother reached a hand across the table and took hold of her husbands. He was honestly confused with how nervous they appeared, since he couldn't believe there'd be any bad news to report. After all, Takato was stable. This was a prestigious hospital with only the most well trained medical professionals. With their expertise combined with Takato's sturdy nature, there was no reason to fear for his well being. They simply couldn't fail. Still, seeing them so upset was just a tad troubling, so Junta occupied himself by fussing with the little Sendou cat plush he retrieved from his shoulder bag as he listened to the update. 

"Now, even though his case is severe, this all started when Saijou-san contracted influenza, which would've been what caused his first few symptoms." The doctor explained, writing 'INFLUENZA' at the top of the board in large letters. "As you know, this is simply the virus that causes the flu. It's extremely common; around one billion cases of it pop up every year, and it doesn't take much for it to spread from one person to the next. He may have caught it from someone at work, or someone at the store, or anywhere.

"Because influenza is a virus, it can't get better with antibiotics." He scribbled the word 'ANTIBIOTICS' on the side of the board before drawing a large cross over top it. "Antibiotics only work with bacterial infections. That's why Saijou-san wasn't seeing any improvements from medications. And because he avoided seeing the doctor for so long, it was only identified as influenza after the infection had become severe." 

Junta's grip on the plush tightened. He couldn't help but scold himself for letting Takato go so long without seeking medical attention. He hated that he didn't do more for Takato sooner, and he swore to never let it happen again.

"Eventually..." The doctor continued. "The unchecked infection weakened his entire respiratory system, allowing pockets of fluid to form in his lungs that he was unable to dislodge. The formation of these fluid pockets is called Pneumonia." He added the word 'PNEUMONIA' to the board just beneath 'INFLUENZA' and drew an arrow from the first word to the new one. "This is what caused his worsening cough and, later, the bleeding inside his lungs. He most likely contracted a bacterial infection at this point as well, since they thrive in the lungs. This was why his temperature skyrocketed and why he was put on IV antibiotics despite the initial diagnosis of a virus."

As scary as pneumonia was, Junta still saw no reason to get too upset at Takato's diagnosis. He had worked with people who had suffered this ailment and had managed to completely recover. This was nothing the hospital couldn't fix. 

"However, there is an extremely rare complication that Saijou-san has developed." The doctor sighed, his voice dipping noticeably lower. "We've been doing routine blood tests every eight hours or so to monitor his illness's progression. This morning, his temperature and blood pressure began to drop back to normal levels. This is a good indication that the secondary bacterial infection has begun responding to treatment. But the other tests we ran came back with significantly worse results.

"At any time and with any infection, a patient may develop Septicemia, or sepsis for short." The doctor turned back to the board one more time to write 'SEPSIS' below 'PNEUMONIA' and added another arrow to indicate the forward progression. He then stepped to one side and drew a quick, rudimentary sketch of a human body, specifically detailing the veins and general blood flow leading to and from the heart. "Sepsis occurs when the infection finds its way into the blood stream. From there, it can use the circulatory system as a highway to absolutely anywhere in the body. Unfortunately, Saijou-san has already tested positive for this condition. At any given moment, a new infection could spring up anywhere, such as in Saijou-san's skin or his eyes or, heaven forbid, his heart, brain, or even his bones. We know for sure that things have already spread to some of his muscles, so there's no telling what kind of weakness may result. 

"Of course, we plan on continuing his aggressive treatment to help him to fight off this illness, but Saijou-san is in a battle for his life. Though it began as just a flu, he's now basically fighting a full-body infection. Sepsis can be incredibly unpredictable. If things quickly take a turn for the worse, it may be time to begin considering the option of comfort care, which would allow him to pass on peacefully."

With that, Takato's mother finally broke, and she began quietly weeping into the shoulder of her husband beside her. Takato's father pulled her closer, trying to offer what little comfort he could with the awful news they had just received. Ayagi breathed a long, shuddering sigh, resting his elbows on the table and burying his face into his hands, more in shock than anything. It was a lot of information to take in so quickly, and their minds were unsure of the appropriate reaction.

"Do... you happen to know..." Takato's father began, not even lifting his gaze from his heart broken wife. "What are his chances of... not surviving this..?"

Before the doctor could even prepare an answer, Junta suddenly bolted upright, nearly knocking down his chair as it was thrown out from under him, the loud noise startling everyone else present in the room. Without a word or even a discernible expression, Junta tossed his bag over his shoulder and swiftly exited the room, letting the heavy door slam behind him. 

Having seen every possible reaction in the past, the doctor merely sighed and shook his head, capping the marker he had been holding. Takato's parents shared an understanding glance and held each other just a little tighter. Ayagi, despite their rivalry and problems in the past, knew he was the only person there that was anywhere near close to Junta. He looked to Takato's father, both managing to convey their thoughts to each other without the need for words, before Ayagi quietly stood and followed Junta into the hallway. 

His fellow actor didn't need to ask to figure out where Junta had run off to. Sure enough, as he silently peaked around the door and into Takato's room, he found Junta stationed right by his side, his head resting ever so gently on Takato's chest and with a steady hand once again petting slow strokes across his cheek. 

"Takato-san..." Junta breathed, almost too quiet for Ayagi to hear. "The doctors are worried. Your parents too. They're starting to think you aren't gonna make it through this.

"But I believe in you, Takato-san. You remember our promise, right? You told me you'd stay by my side forever. We swore we'd never leave each other.

"I know you wont break your promise, Takato-san. So, please... Wake up soon..."

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a kudos and/or comment if you enjoyed the piece! :)


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